Friday, December 31, 2010

How Do YOU Read?


            The world around us has changed, and it has changed very quickly by historical standards.  One aspect of the world that has changed significantly is the sensitivity with which we read and interpret texts. 

            It used to be in the Modern world that we, in the Western world, would read a text with the assumption that the words on the page were univocal; that is, that the message of the text was singular, and we assumed the meaning of the text could be found in the text itself and by understanding what Paul Ricoeur called the “world behind the text,” the world of the author.

            For example, take the 2nd Amendment to the Constitution.  It states, “[a] well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”  In the Modern world, all that would be necessary to read/interpret these words would be a dictionary and access to a few writings of the “Founding Fathers” to understand it.  We might ask the question of what is meant by “militia” or “arms,” and not much more than a dictionary, especially one from the 18th century, would be needed to satisfactorily answer the questions.  Reading and interpreting, in the Modern world, was fairly simple and intuitive.

            Add to this “Enlightened” way of reading the contributions of the Scottish, Enlightenment philosophers (think Hume, Reid and Smith) and you have another interesting twist to the Modern way of reading in America.  One contribution these men (sorry ladies) made to the way we think in America is that reading, understanding and interpreting the world is just a matter of “common sense.”  Hence the title to Paine’s argument for revolting against King and Parliament was entitled “Common Sense.”  As the result of the contributions of these philosophers and our unique American experience, Americans in particular, during the Modern period, believed that finding the meaning in the text was simple, intuitive and a matter of common sense.  In fact, many of you right now have been wondering why is this guy writing about such a stupid question, and what does it matter any way?

            If you are an American Protestant this question is massive; I would argue that even if you are not such a person this question is still massive.  But for the American Protestant this question of how we read has a particular point of interest.

            One of the hallmarks of the Protestant church is that the Bible is the highest and sole authority for what we believe about a range of matters in life.  “Sola Scriptura!”  Martin Luther cried.  The Protestant Reformation was as much about overthrowing a particular authoritative tradition that limited how the text of scripture could be read.  Prior to the Reformation, reading scripture was not a private endeavor, and its interpretation was certainly not a private matter either.  But with the Protestant Reformation came the notion that every man could read scripture for himself, concluding Rome had it wrong.  There was one problem, however.  There was no longer any authority over HOW to read/interpret the scripture.  The post-Reformation era was marked by very bloody wars over which interpretation of scripture was allowable.  Literally, millions of Europeans were killed over this question.  The solution, to Europe, seemed simple.  Develop an understanding of the world, and the worlds of texts, that would preclude such violent squabbles.  The Modern way of reading was born.

            For the American Protestant there seems to be no need for authority or tradition when it comes to matters of faith.  Bathed in the Modern notions of how to read a text, Nuda Scriptura (naked scripture) is sufficient.  Me, my common sense and the Bible will tell me all I need to know.  If my church reads it wrongly then I will pick up and go to another church or “plant” my own.  As Mark Noll argues this way of reading/interpreting scripture has led to a significant theological crisis for American evangelicals, and we only began to notice this crisis with the onset of the Civil War.[1]

            Prior to and during the Civil War, Americans were arguing about slavery.  Is it a justifiable institution or not?  Since most Americans were biblically literate and Protestant, most Americans turned to scripture to answer this question.  Much to the shock of most Americans, no consensus could be reached about the question of slavery.  This result was mysterious because those engaged in the debate considered scripture to be the sole and final authority on morality, used the scripture to formulate their arguments and most people in the debate seemed “rational.”  

         Why could we not agree regarding the message of the text?  Why did one “common sense” reading seem to support slavery as a potentially viable institution and another one seem to deny that same possibility?  Whose voice “counted” in this debate?  Who could speak authoritatively about this issue of scripture’s interpretation?  Thus, there was a theological crisis.  

          “Common sense” did not bring about unity in reading the biblical text for the American church, so the American church could not speak authoritatively about THE major issue in culture at the time.  It makes me wonder what major cultural issues today we are not able to speak about because of our method of reading?

            The Modern world plodded along in spite of this and many other controversies that seemed impossible to resolve using its tools for understanding.  However, after accumulating too many irresolvable readings/interpretations of the world, the Modern world collapsed.  Today what counts most in reading is the “world in front of the text,” the reader.

            The meaning of the text, in today’s world, is supplied by the reader.  Essentially, the text is what I think it means.  There is a loss of hope for building any consensus regarding the meaning of any text, especially the biblical text.  What we used to think was “common sense” is now understood to be merely personal perspective.  The text’s meaning, that I have in my mind, appears to be “common sense” to me because it is my perspective.  And that is why it is so frustrating, at times, when others don’t easily, or at all, see what I see in the text.  Our world is now a world, agree with it or not, that is sensitized to the impact of perspective in reading.  Thus we can speak of our world as being post-Modern.

            What troubles me is that many American evangelicals still read, unknowingly, in a Modern way.  Oddly, they also read in a post-Modern way.  In fact, many read with the worst assumptions of both the Modern and post-Modern way.  They read with the assumption that understanding the text is simple, intuitive and a matter of common sense, and at the same time they read it with an eye toward what can only be labeled as a “what does it mean to me” approach.  It is not unusual to hear in a home group study of the Bible that exact phrase, or something close to it.

            I don’t expect every member of a Protestant Evangelical church to wrestle through what our hermeneutic of scripture ought to be or develop an answer to the questions and problems a Modern and post-Modern reading of text brings up.  However, they need to be aware that the questions exist, and certainly, professional, educated clergy should be working toward a pencil sketch of an answer.  I certainly expect the Church should wrestle through how we think about and access our sacred text.  I absolutely expect the Church to begin bridging the gap between our culture’s understanding of text and a Christian understanding of text.  I do expect that the Church ought to develop a church culture that values such discussion, and creates space for the members of the body to learn, think and grow in these issues.  Failure to engage this process leaves a vacuum, and that vacuum will be filled by whatever is offered by other cultural institutions (media). 

            You have a way of reading/interpreting the text, but have you ever given it one thought?  Your culture has.



[1] Mark A. Noll, “The Civil War as a Theological Crisis” (Chapel Hill: UNC Press, 2006).

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Banksy Crucifixtion.

I found this image on another blog I frequent.  What are your comments, thoughts or insights?

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Defeating the Cultural Hermeneutic of Suspicion


There is a sense among some evangelicals that the gospel message is not well received in today’s culture.  In response, some suggest this failure to respond to the gospel only proves that the lost just don’t get it and our culture is very lost.  They suggest, in some circles, our culture’s rejection of the gospel is to be expected since we are nearing the “end times” when everything is supposed to get really bad.  In these circles, culture’s deterioration and resistance to the gospel is a welcomed sign that we are just about to wined things up here on planet earth. 

But what if it wasn’t the culture’s fault?  What if things aren’t about to wind up?  What if there are still many generations to come?  What if the American church has a hand in our culture’s resistance to the gospel?

It has become cliché to label our present American culture as postmodern, but it is still an appropriate signifier of the signified.  However, what that signifier (postmodern label) points to is ill defined.  Does it simply mean that we are good relativists now?  Does it mean we all can put bumper stickers on our cars that say “Co-Exist” or “Celebrate Diversity?”  I suggest to you it may be these, but more fundamentally for the church and its gospel mission it means that people operate with a hermeneutic of suspicion.  WAIT!  Don’t check out on me yet…its not as complicated as that may sound.

A hermeneutic is simply a way, rule or philosophy of interpreting text.  It originally was used in the field of biblical theology, but it has expanded into literature and other academic disciplines.

The suspicion of Freud, Nietzsche and Critical Theory were added to the discipline of hermeneutics, creating the hermeneutic of suspicion.  These thinkers and schools of interpretation desired to read “beneath” the text; they did not take the text at face value.  Particularly, Critical Theory sought out the powers behind the text, asking, “Who benefits from this text?”  “What power interests are served by this specific interpretation of the text?”  Texts are fundamentally “about” something other than what they immediately presents themselves to be.

Believe it or not this hermeneutic of suspicion (reading behind the text for power interests) has filtered down into the broader, popular culture.  Now the common man or woman reads the events of their day and the statements made within the culture for what power interests are served by such events or statements.  Think about the culture’s reaction to President Bill Clinton’s statement to the American people that he did not have “sexual relations with that woman.”  As it turned out the American people were correct to disbelieve Clinton, but that example only serves to show how common it is for our culture to read with deep suspicion.

Take another example, when you (a Christian) “share the gospel” to someone it is interpreted very differently from your intent as an author or even how previous generations would have interpreted the presentation.  They hear in our “good news” the following:  Surrender control of your life and decision making capacities to this god we have imagined so that your decisions must conform to our groups’ interpretation of what is “right” (authorized by the group).  Grant your assent to our god and our vision of the good, and empower us over you.

This interpretation is especially poignant when the gospel is presented from someone that is part of the upper middle class, politically conservative establishment (probably most evangelicals).  When we pull out of our three-car garage in our European sedan past our well-manicured lawn it is easy for our gospel message to look like just one more political, power play at work in culture.  I am not suggesting this is a right reading or even a fair reading, but it is the reading of our gospel text by our culture.

So how does the church in America get over this level of cynical and suspicious reading?  How do we get a fair hearing or reading of the text?  I suggest that we need to imbed a missing piece into our gospel narrative.  We need to add a twist to the old story that will defeat any possible reading of power interests into the text.  In fairness, it is not that we need to add something or imbed something new; we need to bring back something we have lost.  The cross.

We often see the cross and discuss the cross solely in terms of substitutionary atonement (Jesus in my place for my sin).  But, there is more at work in the cross than just substitutionary atonement, without denying it either.  In part, the cross is an emblem of defeat to empire. 

The cross in the Roman Empire was a symbol of Caesar’s authority and power to take life of those that did not serve the interests of Caesar and his empire.  The cross was a way of defeat.  Messianic movements (anti-empire) often came to a crashing halt when the proclaimed Messianic leader was put on the cross to die.

It seems this is what Jesus had in mind in Matthew 16:24-26.  Jesus laid down the law of the Kingdom.  Up is down, and down is up.  Losing is winning, and winning is losing.  If we want to be followers of him we must be crucified like him. 

Our culture preaches winning and being on top of the pile.  It serves the interest of economic empire to have us all striving for as much stuff, position and power we can attain; it is the pro-growth policy.  And as long as the church is participating with hearty “amens” in this race to nowhere our culture should read our text (actions and speech) with suspicion.  We are just another interest group seeking to be up and not down, winners and not losers.

If we could live a crucified life…if we could sacrifice so deeply and painfully that it cost us everything the narrative would change.  Where are the interests of power in dying?  Where is the motive to win and dominate in sacrifice?  A life lived on Jesus’ terms cannot be read with suspicion, or at a minimum it would much tougher to do.

The problem with our gospel might not be the culture’s suspicion of our text…it might be the text of our lives.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

The Problem with Reading Scripture as Protestants

Below is a brief article by a Protestant that I found very interesting and thought provoking.  I'd love to read your reactions to this article.


The Challenge of Reading the Bible Today: 
Can the Bible be read both Critically and Religiously? 
Jewish, Catholic and Protestant Perspectives 

University of Pennsylvania, October 25, 2010 


“Can the Bible be read religiously and critically?” That is the question, and I get to talk 
about the Protestant perspective. Which is tough, because Protestantism is as big as the 
sky in Montana. You have everything from American young earth creationists to 
German liberal Lutherans to Chinese Pentecostals to Korean hyper-Calvinists. There is 
certainly no one “Protestant perspective” on anything, let alone the Bible and higher 
criticism. 
But for our purposes, I can think of three general groups of Protestants. The first two are 
not relevant. On one end of the spectrum are Fundamentalists. They are not asking the 
question we are asking today, because they essentially reject higher criticism as an 
enemy to the faith. Then there are Protestants at the other end of the spectrum entirely. 
They also are not asking the question we are asking, but for the opposite reason. They 
don’t expect as much from the Bible to inform their faith, so there is little pressure, if 
any, to ask how a religious reading of scripture can co-exist with higher criticism.

The Protestants I have in mind today make up a very large and a diverse middle group. 
This group feels the tension; they get it. They are committed to “taking the Bible 
seriously” but they also sense that the modern study of the Bible is a real challenge that 
has to be dealt with one way or another. That recognition may be on a very 
sophisticated, learned level, or it may be more occasional: someone watches a History 
Channel special on the Bible or takes a course at Penn, and what they hear makes a lot 
of sense, but it is VERY different from what they are used to hearing. And so the 
familiar struggle begins between a Bible they once knew and the Bible they are now 
getting to know. 
So, for these Protestants, can they read the Bible religiously and critically? Yes, and in 
fact it must...but...they may have to be willing to make some adjustments, give up 
some things that don’t work very well. That is a very hard thing to do. 
If your faith is rooted in a sacred book, which is a fundamental Protestant conviction—a 
book where God speaks to you—then higher criticism is bound to create some trouble. 
Higher criticism says in effect: “Yes, I know you and your tradition have always 
thought ‘X’ about the Bible but now we know better—it’s really ‘not X’ or ‘Y.’” Genesis—is 
not history but myth; Abraham—is not a man but a legend; Moses—if he even lived, did 

not write the Pentateuch; Exodus and conquest narratives—at best distorted histories, if 
not simply fabrications, same with the Gospels and Acts—and on and on. 
This is the tension of higher criticism, it is felt acutely in Protestantism, and here’s why 
—this is where we get to the distinctly Protestant problem of religious faith and higher 
criticism: in Protestantism the Bible is pressed into the role of supreme religious authority. Of 
the three perspectives represented here, Protestantism in particular needs a very 
different kind of Bible than the one higher criticism delivers. That is a problem because 
Protestants like being Protestants and higher criticism, well, it’s not going anywhere 
either. 
My comments today are going to be largely diagnostic. I want to focus on the reasons 
why Protestants have the particular problem they do with higher criticism, and then 
offer some brief suggestions about how to move beyond the impasse. I attribute the 
Protestant dis-ease to three factors: (1) the Reformation concept of sola Scriptura, (2) 
Protestant identity coming out of the 19th century, and (3) the very nature of the 
Christian Bible. 

Sola Scriptura 
The reason Protestant faith and higher criticism are in such conflict today is actually 
built into the very nature of Protestantism. The clarion call of the Reformers was “sola 
Scriptura,” meaning scripture and scripture alone is God’s word, the church’s final 
authority on all matters pertaining to faith and life. For many, this phrase is the very 
heart of Protestantism. 
Higher criticism messes with that. Protestants locate authority in a book. To function 
authoritatively, it has to be clear and consistent—higher criticism introduces ambiguity and 
diversity in the Bible. It has to be somehow truthful, trustworthy, functionally without at 
least major blunders—higher criticism points out errors and contradictions. It is hard for 
the Bible to function as a final authority if it’s got so many problems. Higher criticism 
calls into question the core Protestant conviction of sola Scriptura. 
One of the great ironies of sola Scriptura is that it helped produce disunity among 
Christians rather than the unity of all gathered around this authoritative word. Sola 
Scriptura tried to solve one problem and created another. Once you say “we will only 
listen to what God says in the Bible,” you are bound to pay close attention to what the 
Bible says—for yourself. Luther even translated the Bible into German to make sure 
more people could do just that. But when you read the Bible, as any decently trained 
seminarian can tell you, you start seeing the ambiguities and tensions. You begin to see 
that it’s not all that easy to understand what the Bible is authoritatively saying. 
But if the Bible is your final authority, it is vital, central, that you get it right. That’s one 
reason why the Reformation quickly splintered over formerly settled issues like infant 
baptism or the presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Lo and behold, the authoritative 
word of God is not clear. And so you had Lutherans, Calvinists, Anabaptists, and 
others, all claiming to provide that clarity, to get it right. That is why Protestants 
continue to form new churches and denominations, this is why they establish insulated 
Bible colleges, vigilant seminaries, and, more than once in history, why they kill or 
mistreat those they disagree with. This is God’s book. He is speaking to you through it. 
A lot—everything—is at stake in how you handle this authoritative text. 
Sola Scriptura might have been a good idea at the time, but it is hard to implement, as 
the history of Protestantism has shown. Nevertheless, the Bible as sole and supreme 
authority continues to be a deep impulse of Protestant ideology. Higher-criticism, which 
introduces novel readings and extra-biblical information, is seen to undermine that 
authority. And so it remains a common foe or at least a very distant and awkward 
conversation partner. 
Protestant Identity in the 19th Century 
The 19th century as a whole gave sola Scriptura Protestants fits. Picture the scene. First 
you had the enthronement of an older 17th-18th century European higher criticism, now 
making its way to America, challenging all sorts of traditional beliefs about the Bible. 
That was bad enough. But during that century you also had the rise of biblical 
archaeology. Among the more alarming finds was Mesopotamian creation and flood 
stories that were clearly mythic but that also looked uncomfortably similar to the stories 
in Genesis. These two factors did a good job of undermining the Bible as a source of 
history. 
Let that sink in. Traditional notions of the Bible were turned upside down. The law of 
Moses was written not at the beginning of Israel’s history as Israel’s national 
foundation, but 1000 years later as an afterthought. If that is right, that pretty much 
screws up the entire history of Israel that the authoritative Bible presents. Then 
archaeology showed that the Bible looks like pagan literature. Genesis is a story, myth, 
just like the origins stories of the much older Sumerians, Assyrians, Babylonians, 
Egyptians, and Canaanites. 
If your faith rests on a Bible where God speaks, these were crushing blows that created 
great angst. And if that weren’t enough on everyone’s plate, you have science: geology 
showing that the earth is far older than Genesis allows—so, again, the Bible is wrong. 
And then of course you have Darwin bird watching in the Galapagos Islands and 
decides we all came from monkeys. The truthfulness and accuracy of the Bible was 
disintegrating before their eyes. 
We can’t overstate how traumatic all this was. What do biblical authority and sola 
Scriptura even mean? People were frightened. The dominoes were unraveling down the 
slippery slope. Where was all this heading? Can we trust the Bible?—which is the same as 
asking Can we trust God? 
If we want to understand the uneasy relationship between Protestant faith and higher 
criticism today, we need to understand what was set in motion in the 19th century. For 
many, these older higher critical conflicts are not over—they are actually perpetuated. A 
large measure of current Protestant religious identity was forged during that moment. 
Many Protestants today are the ecclesiastical children of these conflicts that have been 
faithfully handed down—the conflict is part of their DNA, their culture, their source of 
identity, their narrative. 
To ask them “how can we read the Bible religiously and critically” is to ask them to 
rewrite that narrative. And rewriting one’s narrative is always a threat, especially if that 
narrative includes very clear ideas about matters of ultimate significance, such as: the 
nature of universe and your place in it, God, eternal life, etc., etc. If you want conflict, 
challenge a group’s totalizing narrative. The Protestant tensions with higher criticism 
are as much about social-location issue as anything. 
It is a common refrain: “If we allow that, if we go down that road, we are denying our 
past and therefore cease being who we are.” To dialogue with higher criticism means 
being a traitor, defecting to the enemy, and the social pressures are enormous. Their 
very existence is a response to higher criticism, not a partnership. Continuing the conflict 
is a badge of honor for some, a sign of fidelity to the tradition—and therefore to God 
himself.  
Until a new social narrative is written—which is happening and which is why there is 
some volatility in these circles—conflict will continue. 
The Nature of the Christian Bible 
There is a third point I’d like to raise briefly that is even more fundamental than the 
previous two. It has to with the nature of the Christian Bible itself. 
A few years back, one of my doctoral professors, the noted Jewish biblical scholar Jon 
Levenson, wrote an article on Judaism and biblical theology. In it he commented on the 
overarching difference between how Jews and Christians view the Bible. It struck a 
chord with me that still resounds. He said, “For Jews, the Bible is a problem to be 
solved; for Christians it is a message to be proclaimed.” This is an important distinction 
that helps explain why Protestants have an uneasy relationship with higher criticism. 
Not to oversimplify, but the history of Jewish interpretation of the Bible is notoriously 
comfortable with problems in the Bible. The Jewish Bible is not flat but complex, 
containing many peaks and valleys, gaps and gashes. Jewish interpretation understands 
this and works with it. That is because connecting with God through scripture is a 
journey, a conversation, an argument, a struggle. Hence, higher criticism—although still 
a challenge—is less of a problem, at least insofar as it , too, points out the peaks and 
valleys, gaps and gashes of the Bible. 
For Protestants—and I should broaden this to all Christians—the Bible is not there to set 
us on an exegetical adventure where we discover God in the problems. It is there to 
proclaim what God has done in Christ. The Bible is a grand narrative that as a whole tells 
ultimately ONE story with a climax: the crucified and risen Son of God. The NT authors 
model this on virtually every page: they go to great lengths to explain how Jesus of 
Nazareth completes Israel’s story and gives it coherence. Taken as a whole, the Christian 
Bible has a point—a message to be proclaimed.
10 
If the Bible is a message to be proclaimed, one can see why higher criticism would be an 
issue. Higher criticism does not unify the Bible but breaks it down into its various and 
conflicting messages. This impulse impedes Christian proclamation, and so accounts at 
least for part of the problem. 
Way Forward 
Some brief thoughts. If I were elected the Protestant President, here is what I would say. 
This middle group of Protestants—shaped by sola Scriptura and deep sociological 
factors—must try to create a culture where critical self-reflection is valued rather than 
being a threat. They must take steps to come to peace with the Bible as it is, not as it has 
been for their tradition. 
There are higher critical insights that disturb familiar theological categories. Perhaps it 
is time to revisit those categories instead of defending them. Protecting boundaries— 
although always tempting—may not be the best way to preserve faith. There is actually 
more at stake by not thinking synthetically and creatively about some longstanding 
higher critical issues (top on the list: Hebrew Bible and history and the NT and 
11 
midrash). Stubbornly defending tradition ironically damages that tradition and those in 
it. Willingness to change and adapt is actually necessary to preserve any identity. 
Such re-examination will likely mean looking outside of the Protestant story to see what 
wisdom can be modeled by how other faith traditions handle higher criticism. For 
example, picking up on Levenson’s quote, what if Protestants would learn to be 
comfortable with a more dialogical approach to engaging the Bible rather than “getting 
it right”—where God is encountered in the conversation of reading rather than treating 
the Bible as a sourcebook of infallible information. 
When Protestants sing hymns in church about the Bible, it is indicative of the problem. 
The Bible is not the center of the Christian faith: God is. And there is more to knowing 
and encountering this God than carefully reading a book, even an inspired one. 
I think there is much Protestants can learn from some contemplative traditions that 
have been part of the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions. Needing to get 
the Bible right, and fretting over whether one is getting it right, and what God thinks of 
us should we get it wrong, stem from spiritual and emotional dysfunction, not health; 
from a false and wounded self, not mature piety. Spiritual masters, not only of 
Christianity but of other faiths, are quick to remind us that living in your head and 
controlling others and God through a text hinder communion with God and spiritual 
growth. It is a great Protestant irony that one’s devotion to scripture can wind up being 
a spiritual barrier. 
The way forward may be a willingness on the part of Protestants to evaluate how well 
things are working and to make changes where necessary. Some might say that such a 
program would compromise the very Protestant spirit. I disagree. I think it calls upon 
the true spirit of the Reformation, but now turned inward, not simply on the enemy 
lurking outside of the walls. Critical self-evaluation is the first step to answering the 
question before us in the affirmative. The Protestant predicament, however, is that it 
may also be the hardest step to take. Where all this is headed is beyond me but will 
certainly be interesting to watch unfold.